Year of the Monkey brings creativity

Sue Clark

“Hey, Pearl,” I said, “are you wearing red because of the new year?”

My well-dressed and witty colleague is my source for insights into

Chinese customs and language.

“Yes, I am, Sue,” she said.

“What’s the Year of the Monkey going to bring?” I asked her.

“It’s a year of creativity and fun,” she replied.

“Any downside to the Monkey?”

Pearl, in her wisdom, replied, “We prefer to emphasize the

positive.”

For me, emphasizing the positive is always about food. My best

thinking about the Year of the Monkey brought me to Mongolian

Bar-B-Cue Pan Asia on 17th Street in Costa Mesa.

Twenty years ago, writing for the old Newport Ensign, I wrote

about the food at Mongolian -- as it is commonly known -- with a

toddler trying to crawl all over my strange new word-processing

typewriter. Who knew that years later, she’d e-mail from UCLA to say,

“I miss Mongolian!”

If you plan to eat at Mongolian, you get there early, as it is

inexpensive, delicious and therefore usually busy. You order your

shaved raw meat at the table and follow a line of hungry patrons

along a cafeteria counter in the back of the restaurant, adding

vegetables, sauces and spice. Then your bowl is placed in order on

top of the counter and you watch the contents being stir-fried on a

big flat griddle. Make sure your bowl is in proper order. Bowl

cutting could be dangerous with this crowd.

The old adage that watching your food cook makes you hungrier is

never truer than in this hungry line. I often go in just after a hard

workout at 24 Hour Fitness, and I often fear I may starve before my

bowl gets thrown on the sizzling griddle.

There are some customs to know if you’ve never been there. First

of all, you can spot a barbecue rookie by the way they pile the food

in their bowl. Experienced patrons have mastered the technique for

squashing as much meat as possible in their bowl and then piling

truck loads of sprouts, broccoli, carrots and chives onto this

compacted brick of meat.

The seasoned professionals will order, say, “turkey; all you can

eat,” or “single-serving pork.” Then, as the server brings steamed

rice and the most delicious little sesame buns ever made, they cast

about for a plate or extra porcelain teacup. Finally, with the

strength of a state governor or a trash compacter, they pulverize and

squash the meat into a little brick.

The result? More room for other goodies. You can tell an expert

when you sidle along the counter. I have seen bowls piled almost a

foot high with vegetables. The true masters have perfected the art of

balance, and their bowls are cause for envy among those of us who

aren’t strong or coordinated enough to achieve these masterpieces.

One note of caution from Sue Clark, designated Worrier for the

World: If you use a dish or cup to flatten your shaved raw meat,

please don’t eat off of it later! OK, enough from mom.

I prefer to skip the oil and pour only sauces on my bowl, as there

is plenty of oil already on the griddle. Watching your masterpiece

being cooked is almost unbearable, but they finally hand you your

steaming bowl, and you race back to the table. My custom is to stuff

the sesame buns with the cooked mixture and eat the little sandwiches

first. Then I use chopsticks, which I have mastered, and devour the

rest in a voracious manner. I always plan to take some home, but I

never do.

When I went to the register to pay the last time I was there, I

saw a young big-haired woman in a hideous dress smiling down at me

from a yellowed clipping. It was my original Chinese New Year

article.

(What was I thinking with that outfit? Oh well, it was the 1980s.)

I pointed to the clipping, “that’s me,” and then pointed to

myself. The cashier looked friendly but dubious. The next time I ate

there, as I was paying, the owner pointed to the column.

“You,” he stated, grinning.

Happy Year of the Monkey.

* SUE CLARK is a Newport Beach resident and a high school guidance

counselor at Creekside High School in Irvine.